


In Focus

by derekstilinski



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Hank Anderson, Canon Universe, Comfort Sex, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Medical Examination, Mentioned Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Mentioned Upgraded Connor | RK900, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Short & Sweet, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 08:57:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20225209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekstilinski/pseuds/derekstilinski
Summary: A little slice of life piece where Hank has to finally get glasses. Connor is very supportive.





	In Focus

Hank knows the whole appointment that he’s in trouble. He drove to the damn place knowing it would be bad. Connor tries to soothe him, to tell him things are going to be just fine and they’ll be home in about an hour. But Hank knows better.

He has to swallow his pride after trying twice to read fuzzy lines. He tells the doctor he just can’t see them clearly, and thankfully she’s very compassionate. She even tells him they’ll get through it as fast as they can. He gets drops in his eyes, goes through the pressure test with that shitty blue light, and then comes the drops to dilate his eyes.

It’s always uncomfortable, he keeps squinting and blinking and his eyes are tearing up but also dry as hell. The consolation is she says his pupils are already big so he only needs one drop instead of the usual two. With how blue his eyes are, the sun’s going to hurt like hell when he’s gotta walk out of here.

But he strolls back into the waiting room for the drops to work their magic, patting at his eyes with his crumpled tissue. Connor stands up when he nears, sticking out in the gray waiting room with his pastel peach button up, short sleeves rolled up to show the extra sun freckles he set an algorithm to produce. He’s so beautiful for Hank’s sore eyes and the only comfort there is. Dramatic maybe, but Hank sure thinks it genuinely.

Connor’s hand circles his wrist, drawing his hand away from his face. “How are you doing?” he takes the tissue and touches his tongue to a stained spot briefly, much more casual than at a crime scene, “Oh, they’ve numbed and dilated you. Does it feel okay?”

“No, I hate it.” Hank goes to rub his eyes again but Connor stops him, producing a soft monogrammed handkerchief. He huffs at the little detail of the floral cream C threaded on the edge, adoring Connor finding such a sweet sense of style. He pats at his eyes and Connor guides him to sit down.

“It’ll be better soon, and then I can bring you home. There’s a Gears game waiting on the television, and your new slippers arrived twenty minutes after we left. They’re on the doorstep.” Connor sits favoring the side Hank is on, bringing Hank’s hand into his lap and intertwining their fingers. Hank still basks in the gentle form of PDA, it still feels special after all this time.

“Ah, you’re so good to me.” He sighs, leaning back into his seat while he rubs Connor’s hand with his thumb.

“Well, when you have a favorite, that sort of happens.” Connor tells him indulgently, giving one of those small, lopsided smiles.

As they wait, Hank idly looks around, reading the various signs and the fancy, backlit glasses displays. It’s uncomfortable to blink so he keeps his eyes half-lidded, looking like an old man that will fall asleep at his appointment. He shifts to dig his phone out of his pocket and as the screen pops up, he realizes it’s blurry to the point where he can’t see it. A little bit of worry strikes him at first, but reminds himself to breathe through it.

He sighs as he shoves his phone away, looking over at Connor. He’s blurry too, it’s hard to make out his individual freckles and see the pretty ripples in his eyes. Anxiety grips him a little tighter. He doesn’t like things happening to his eyes, has always been resistant to eye doctors. It makes him feel so exposed, fires off unease in his gut. Especially being vulnerable in public. It makes his ears prick and his body tense, to be on alert with one sense compromised. “God, I hate this.”

“What is it, Hank?” Connor holds Hank’s hand in both of his now, squeezing back.

“I can’t see you. You’re all blurry.” He says, the unease there in his voice. Connor nods, reaching up to cup his cheek.

“Okay. Is your vision impared any other way? Is it getting dark?” Connor asks him with his concern calm. He leans closer to inspect Hank’s eyes.

“No, it’s just— it’s fucking blurry.”

“Is it your entire field of vision?”

Hank sighs, squinting at Connor and then letting himself look around again. It’s all lightly distorted but he can still read the displays and the waiting list sign. “Ah, no. No, I can still see far away.”

Connor strokes his cheek, making him turn his head back. He gives Hank a soft smile, “You’re okay, my love. That’s just the way the drops work. They will get your exam done and it’ll wear off. You don't have to be worried."

Hank takes that in, even though he already knows there's nothing wrong with him. He nods, closing his eyes for a second and they immediately start tearing up. It's so uncomfortable to blink. Connor gently pats at his eyes with the handkerchief. "Thanks… I always freak out when it's my eyes, I don't do well with it."

"The discomfort you feel is understandable, Hank. If they had to do something with my eyes, I'd feel some unease too." Connor soothes, tucking hair behind Hank's ear.

Hank squeezes his hand thankfully. "… I don't like not being able to see you clearly. You… it just helped me."

Connor feels warmth bloom in his chest. He settles the handkerchief back with Hank before patting his hands, "I can move, so you can see me better."

Hank snorts, already trying to dismiss it. Connor shouldn't have to do that for him. But Connor squeezes his hands in a firm way, insisting in a tone that holds so much plain adoration, "I want to do what I can for you. I talked you into this appointment knowing you were uneasy."

Hank wants to give him a kiss and tell him it's okay, he needed the shove to do it because he would have continued to put it off. But they're in a waiting room and kisses in doctor's offices don't appeal unless they've escaped death, so he rubs his thumb between Connor's knuckles where he usually puts his lips and gives in, "If you want to, I'd appreciate it. Calms me down, seeing you in focus."

Connor smiles and gently releases Hank's hand from his grip, getting up from his seat. He moves across the way, to another row five or six feet away. Some details come back as he goes, and Hank feels the sickness in his gut fade somewhat. Connor turns to him, tilting his head in question. Hank lets out a deep breath and nods, and Connor happily settles into the seat. Hank can just make out the strawberries on his shirt, the little chest hair poking out through the undone buttons. He can only see the most prominent, dark freckles on Connor’s face but it soothes him all the same.

He fidgets lightly with the handkerchief and Connor gives him a soft, reassuring smile. He waves, a little innocent flirtation of a thing, and it makes Hank huff out a laugh. He waves back bashfully. It takes maybe ten minutes for the doctor to come and bring him back into the exam room again, and they run him through two tests, one of which absolutely blinds him with a bright light. He’s left blinking owlishly while she talks about his results and writes up his prescription.

He walks out with it in his hand, shoulders slumped, “See? I knew this would be terrible.”

Connor takes the slip from his hand and smiles, “You need glasses. This will keep your eye stain down significantly.”

“Disgusting.”

“No!” Connor looks at him, “This is good. Your headaches will ease, your eyes won’t be so overworked, you will look very nice.”

Hank wrinkles his nose at the notion that he’ll look good. “I’ll look _ old_, Con. All gray and now needing glasses…”

“You’ll look nice.” Connor tells him again and hands him his sunglasses, folding the prescription away into his pocket. “Let’s go home, rest your very pretty blue eyes that have been through so much today.”

Hank slides on his shades to hide from Connor’s open and plain sweetness more than the sun waiting to blind him outside.

He reaches for Connor’s hand immediately when they’re out the door, having to squeeze his eyes shut from the intensity of the sun. With his eyes being so light he’s always had trouble on bright days, but this is next level. Connor happily takes his hand before he realizes he’s having trouble. He leads Hank a few steps to the side and brackets his hands to shield Hank’s face from the sun, “Oh, Hank. Open them slowly, get accustomed. I’m here with you.”

“Sorry, just— Gimme a minute.” Hank feels embarrassment crawl up his neck.

Connor leans close and gently brushes their lips, “I would give you an hour.”

“You’re too good to me.” Hank grouses, only because he doesn’t have the words to say how much it means to him to have someone patient.

“Yes, and? Again, my favoritism clearly on display.” Connor keeps his hands on Hank as a barrier, making it that much easier for Hank.

Hank sighs as his eyes creep open, having to stare at the column of Connor’s throat before he can lift his gaze to Connor’s sweet, blurry face. “Connor…”

“Yes, Hank?”

“Take me home so I can kiss you.”

Connor smiles, “Yes, Hank.”

Hank sinks himself into the couch with a heavy sigh, the ride home having given him a headache. Sumo comes over to offer his head for some healing pets. Hank rubs his ears and squishes his jowls affectionately, before Connor puts down some food for him and he goes to give his thanks for that.

“Here we go, my love.” Connor says quietly as he brings Hank a cup of coffee. Hank gives him a soft hum, putting the cup aside the moment it’s in his hand.

“Thank you.” He reaches for Connor at the same time, drawing him down into his lap. Connor goes easily, beautifully. His hands fall to Hank’s shoulders and he lets out a soft huff of laughter.

"Hank?" That curious lilt to his voice is so precious to Hank. He lets Hank's arms circle his waist. "What are you doing?"

Hank smiles up at him, still having to squint in the light. He caresses over Connor's neck, watching his lover melt into the touch. His hand rests at Connor's cheek, leant into his palm like there could be more contact. He guides Connor down to him, "I'm kissing you, honey."

Connor hums as their lips meet, his hands slowly sliding into place at Hank's jaw and chest. The kiss is slow and sweet, but Connor pulls back when Hank pushes himself up further for more, “You have a headache. Don’t you want to rest?”

“This is good. Wanna hold you.” He whispers into the curve of Connor’s mouth, eyes still closed. He feels Connor smile.

“Alright.” Connor whispers back, settling his weight into Hank’s lap fully. Connor curls his fingers in his lover’s shirt and presses a little more eagerly this time, testing Hank’s mood for the night. He gets those big arms squeezing around his waist and satisfaction pings off in his head. He tips forward and catches Hank’s mouth at a less chaste angle, letting his tongue tease the way Hank likes.

“Con…” Hank murmurs, palms heavy up Connor’s back. The way Connor curves to lay against him feels so good.

“Let me,” Connor whispers in the little space left between them, both hands pushing back Hank’s curls, “Let me help with your headache.”

Hank flushes, trying to stamp down his smile. Connor draws it back out with kisses, laughing softly against his cheek. “I… Yeah, okay baby.”

Connor smiles at him in that little indulgent way he does when he wants to make Hank feel good. He cradles Hank’s head when they kiss again, guiding him back against the couch, “Relax.” he finds the hem of Hank’s shirt, drawing it up to expose his torso. He wiggles to the edge of Hank’s lap. “I’ll take care of you.”

“You always do.” Hank whispers, fingers slipping from Connor’s hips. He rubs over his lover’s thighs instead, trying to continue to touch him.

Connor adorns Hank’s chest with the softness of his mouth, from small kisses to red marks where he feels the need to suck and sink his teeth in. Hank’s soft sighs spur him on like a gift of their own, drawing him down onto the floor between Hank’s legs. His arms wrap around his human, hugging him close while he presses his face into warm skin, coaxing Hank to adjust himself on the cushions while he leaves trails of kisses.

Hank runs his hands along Connor’s bare arms, loving the texture of his hair and how Connor only squeezes him tighter. He grabs for the collar of that pink shirt, trying to draw Connor to him so he can start in on the buttons. He sits up, resting his chin on Hank’s sternum. “Hank, this is for you. As in, you focus on feeling better and I touch you.”

“You deserve somethin’ outta this too, baby.” He coos, needing to close his eyes for a second as a pulse of pain works behind his brow.

“I am. I’m having my way with you.” Connor tells him, taking Hank by the wrists to stop his fumbling. He presses Hank’s hands under his thighs to keep him from being handsy and unbuttons his own shirt so he can show off his chest. Hank’s fingers dig into his thighs and watches his lover with tired, adoring eyes.

Connor meets his eyes as he leans in to nuzzle Hank’s hairy belly, moving further down until his slim fingers are working at Hank’s old worn belt. Hank groans quietly to encourage him and Connor breathes warm over the front of his boxer-briefs. It feels so good, Hank squirms and gathers the denim under his fingers tighter. Connor doesn't let him sit long, he takes the waistband of both bottoms and eases them downward, leaving Hank in just his shirt rucked up around one tit and his flashy pineapple socks. He's not even entirely hard but Connor guides him into his mouth anyway, loving the feel of him anyway.

It's easy to work Hank up, to warm him in his mouth and work him in his hands until that signature soft panting has started and Hank's cock is straining up between his legs. Hank rocks his hips in little movements, wanting to contribute. The uptick of his heart flares his headache but the rush of Connor sucking a mark into the very inner part of his thigh is worth it. His fingers skirt against the cushions for something to hold, each little hum as Connor bobs his head taking him higher. The excess of lubricant in Connor's mouth means he's overly excited about this too, and Hank makes a quiet, wrecked noise as he slides past those reddened lips again.

Connor's buzzing under his skin, every sensor in contact with Hank a hum of delightful pleasure. He looks up at his lover, with his eyes shut and that little pinch between his brows, and thinks he's so beautiful.

He guides Hank's thighs further apart and glides his fingers over the wet, red mark he'd made on the inside of his thigh. He puts his mouth on that spot softer this time, before he coats his fingers with lubricant and brushes them over Hank's hole. Hank reacts almost the same every time; a little surprised twitch, a shaky breath, and then presses into it with an eager shift of his hips.

"Hank." he lets his voice rumble deeper, a soothing tone. Hank shivers. "How is this?"

Connor starts easing his fingers in and the low, heavy ‘ohh’ that falls from his mouth tingles all the way up from his toes, intensifies the searing hot pleasure in his belly. He feels like he's floating, letting Connor work him over in such a deep, relaxed way. He almost forgets to reply, wondering if he can blindly find the coffee table to prop his foot on.

"Yeah—" he tries, sinking against the cushions, mind a little hazy, "Feels so good."

Connor makes a delighted sound, kissing his stomach next to where the tip of his cock is resting. He goes for it next, slow little licks around the foreskin that have Hank's hips tensing with sensitive grunts. He keeps squeezing around Connor's fingers that way, making it harder for them. His ears feel like cotton hearing his own hoarse voice whisper, "Work me open… work me open."

A soft hum leaves Connor’s lips. He has one finger in full and he coos so sweetly, “Anything honey wants.”

“Oh, jeez.” Hank covers his face with one hand, face burning. He loves Connor so much.

Connor takes his time, never letting him get too tense or strain himself. He wants Hank staying back against the cushions and for the most part Hank is good about it. He praises softly, letting his own sighs and moans of pleasure come through as he fucks Hank slow, presses against his prostate. His free hand caresses Hank’s skin, cups his chest, scratches soothingly along his thigh. Hank’s breath stutters when Connor holds his hand, bringing his fingers up to kiss. Soft ‘I love you’s traded, even as Hank’s breath gets heavier. Connor laps up the precome from his slit and they shudder together.

Hank does his best to stay relaxed but nearing the end he starts to move around, working his hips, trying to get more. Connor eases his ass even more off the edge of the couch to try and calm his wiggling. He slides more lubricant off his tongue and sinks a third finger into him, loving the look of his human disheveled and clenching around him with small whines.

He draws his fingertips along Hank’s cock, feeling it twitch, getting the rate of his pulse from the vein. Hank’s legs start to shake where he’s holding himself up, thighs wanting to close as Connor’s hand works with a little more vigor. “Keep those knees up, Lieutenant.” he whispers teasingly, reaching to squeeze Hank’s chest. “I can’t properly massage your prostate if you go slack on me.”

Hank grabs for his hand and blearily looks down at him, taking his fingers into his mouth. He moans around them weakly, trying to do as he’s told while his body clenches with heat. Connor knows it too, moaning and speeding up to bring him off easily. It hits Hank and his headache deeply enough to disorient him, a wave of pleasure and dizziness. He chokes on a noise and tears burn at his eyes, but it’s so fucking good. Connor works him through, draws it out for him and he floats.

Connor’s hands gently, slowly slip out of him. A soft kiss is pressed to his forehead. “Stay. Rest those eyes.”

His coffee cup is pressed into his hand and he just moans as he takes shaky little sips. Connor leaves him but he isn’t worried, he hears the faucet in the bathroom and then Connor’s back to kiss and clean him up.

“Thank you.” He manages, as Connor simply maneuvers him more comfortably and drapes a blanket over him. “You gotta let me—”

“I will. Another time.” Connor settles in mostly on top of him and relaxes.

Later, when Hank’s still slumped against the cushions with more eyesight and much less ache _ anywhere_, he buys his new glasses. Connor coaxes him through it, helping him choose some nice frames that he concedes “won’t make me look _ that _ old, I guess”. Connor feeds him a piece of chicken from his pasta bowl rewardingly. Then he switches the bowl to Hank’s hands and takes the computer away, curling up at the other end of the couch to finalize the order. They don’t talk about it again and Hank’s thankful for it, especially with Connor curling up between his legs as they share dinner from the same bowl.

Hank almost forgets about it, the whole appointment and that anything’s even coming in the mail. He and Connor take on a heavy case, they miss their anniversary because of it. 900 makes them dinner that night, it’s waiting for when they come home bone-tired and dragging themselves through. He takes Sumo with him for the night, old pup excited to be going on a car ride to 900’s apartment. They thank him profusely, and he deflects like always, getting that slightly bashful look while he tells them it was no problem. Just to enjoy themselves.

They eat propped up against each other on the couch, watching the Gears game they missed earlier in the week. They don’t have enough energy for a thorough night of lovemaking, so they break out the toys and lazily rut against each other, trading groans while their vibrator wand does most of the work. Connor controls the pulses of the wand and Hank’s slick hand works them over slow, their kisses deep and shuddering, sleepy whispers of love and commitment.

Two days later and there’s a package on the doorstep marked fragile, and it comes rushing back to Hank unhappily. He sighs through Connor’s excitement while the package is ripped into. He goes and gets himself some juice as a way to extend not having to wear the damn things. But Connor looks so bright, so excited for him. So when his android holds the frames out to him, he swallows his last shred of stubborn pride and slides them onto his face.

“Huh.” He blinks to adjust to them. They’re not uncomfortable, a little disorienting. They make things sharper where things have been getting soft around the edges, and he can feel the difference in the way he looks around, less tightness in his eyes.

Connor stares like someone hit the pause button on him. He doesn’t move except for his eyes darting frantically over Hank’s face, for his LED spinning blue and then yellow yellow yellow. He doesn’t even breathe. It makes Hank all bashful, slightly worried. He pushes his hair back and rubs his neck, knowing the flush is blooming on his face. “What? Is it that bad? Don’t leave me hangin’, sweet thing.”

Connor’s chest stutters as he kicks in oxygen again. He reaches out for Hank with his eyes sparkling, “You look incredible, Hank. I… I don’t know what you were worried about. _ Hank._”

“I’m worried I look like a damn old fool.” He lets Connor herd him towards the bathroom, adjusting the frames and the way they sit on his nose. It’ll be something to get used to.

“Don’t say that.” Connor urges, wanting Hank to see himself so much. Hank’s not moving fast enough though, all hesitant, going far too slow. He huffs and grabs Hank around the waist, lifting him maybe an inch to speed walk down the hall.

“Connor!” He grouches, but doesn’t struggle. Connor brings him into the bathroom, where he settles him right down in front of the mirror.

“Look.” Connor crowds up against his back, pressing Hank into the lip of the sink in his excitement.

Hank does as he’s told. He looks… it’s alright, in his opinion. The frames are mostly clear with a stripe of light blue along the top and sides. Honestly, the color matches his eyes pretty well. It’s a difference, but not a huge difference, even if the frames are a little bulky. The lenses are nice and clear, it’s pretty good. He tucks some hair behind his ears and leans in, he certainly can’t lean back when Connor’s glued to him like he is.

He nods after a long moment, grunting softly in approval, “It’s alright, yeah.”

“Alright?” Connor pushes against his back and Hank pushes back with his ass, making some room for himself. Connor doesn’t mind in the slightest, arms slipping around Hank’s belly. “You look so good, my love. Let me take you to bed, I’d like to see you wear them alone.”

“Seriously?” He huffs out a surprised laugh, looking at Connor through the mirror. He immediately eats that word, because he knows that look. The glint in Connor’s eye, the light flush over his cheeks, the corner of his mouth turned up in that sweet little smirk. Connor’s still attracted to him. He should have known, really.

“Yes.” Connor coos, nuzzling close. He squeezes Hank like he does when he wants Hank to see his way. “I really… Hank, I really adore this look on you.”

“Ah, baby.” He twists around until he can face Connor, letting him lean up for a little kiss. “Thank you. I’m glad you like ‘em, I just don’t know if I’m feeling it. Maybe I’ll come around.”

Connor softens, cupping his cheek. He can see his excitement isn’t matched in Hank and does his best to tone down the giddiness he feels, “Maybe… it feels out of place now, but it will help you be more comfortable in time.”

“I know.” Hank agrees, giving a small kiss to his lover’s temple.

“Do you feel alone?” He asks suddenly, looking at Hank with soft, curious eyes.

Hank really doesn’t know what to say. He supposes it’s a bit of that, having to need something like this now, this extra. A weakness or more show of his age, no matter how ridiculous that is. He remembers when people wore glasses for fashion, because it was cool. 

“It feels stupid… but yeah. I know it should be, y’know, ‘if I need it, I need it’ but.” He shrugs, for lack of better words. He takes the glasses off, looking at them as he turns them over in his hands. He shakes his head, going to sit on the edge of the tub. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, you were excited.”

“For your health, and… yes, for the appealing aesthetic.” Connor sounds a little sheepish. “You don’t always see what I see, and that’s not an error on your part.”

“Maybe I just need to remember it was all the rage to have glasses when I was in my twenties. Your _ enthusiasm _ does help.” He gives an indulgent smile, looking through the lenses at their bath mat.

Connor’s quiet for a long moment, and Hank assumes he’s looking for the right words to say. He knows it’s fine if Connor doesn’t have them, because there might not be words for it. It’s his issue. Connor steps over to him and crouches down, leaning on his knee. He braces his elbow on his own knee to prop up his head. That’s when Hank finally looks up at him, and loses a little bit of his breath.

His sweet Connor. He’s looking at Hank with so much love, that patience he always has. And he’s wearing a pair of brown tortoiseshell glasses. They look so good on him, sitting perfect, complimenting the deep browns of his eyes and the shape of his face. His body just flushes with attraction, a soft whistle of appreciation through his teeth. “Oh, Connor.”

“I don’t want you to feel alone, Hank.” He says, eyes fluttering when Hank’s fingers run through his hair.

“You did that for me?” Hank can’t keep the small waver out of his voice.

Connor nods, tucking his cheek into Hank’s hand. “I bought them after you had chosen yours. I thought perhaps it would help you. Or at least encourage you to wear your own. Solidarity.”

“Have I told you I love you today?”

“You told me this morning, in the shower. This afternoon, moaning when I brought you lunch. Then again, when I displayed initiative at work. Again, after I offered to drive home.” Connor offers with such a soft rumble to his voice.

Hank’s heart aches in the best way. Of course Connor would know every instance. “I’m gonna say it again, because god, sweetheart— I love you so much.”

Connor smiles, the corner of his eyes scrunching up. “And I love _ you_, in incredible amounts.”

He smiles even more when Hank leans closer and draws him into a kiss. He presses up into it eagerly and Hank responds the same, starting to lean down and deepen the kiss. He pulls back just a little bit, enough to get Hank’s attention, “My love… will you put the glasses back on? Please?”

Hank chuckles softly. He can’t say no to that, not when it’s said so carefully wanting. He slides them back onto his face, adjusting them somewhat. “Won’t it be hard to kiss with two sets of specs, honey?”

“We’ll adapt.” Connor grins, giving one of those trademark winks. It disrupts his frames a little bit and Hank laughs watching him fix them back precisely. He laughs too and sees fit to dive back in. This one is a learning curve Hank doesn’t mind working on.


End file.
